


Bonds

by pkmntrainer_alex



Category: One Piece
Genre: Abusive Parents, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood and Injury, Child Abuse, Childhood, Gen, Parent-Child Relationship, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:47:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24724051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pkmntrainer_alex/pseuds/pkmntrainer_alex
Summary: Alternate AU take if Sanji had grown up with brothers that loved and supported him.
Comments: 26
Kudos: 124





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> \- Yes hi it's another Vinsmoke fic  
> \- I've played with this idea for a long time - basically going to rehash Sanji's time in Germa but with him having brothers that possess emotions and actually care about him  
> \- Obviously this is an AU, going to throw in some other elements that I think would jive nicely and I'll update the tags as needed

Every time Sanji turned his head, the dried blood on his face was stuck fast to the pillow. 

The day’s training had been relentless and harsh, and - as per usual - nothing Sanji did made his father happy. No amount of effort he exerted made a difference. The sword training had been horrible, with the family’s soldiers ordered not to hold back, and Sanji had long, dark bruises criss-crossed over his body. Over his small, pale back, over his bony legs, and the blows to his head had blacked an eye and split his lip. He’d ended up curled in a ball in the training arena, arms blocking his face from the relentless blows, the sun beating down all the while. Adding insult to injury, the swaths of skin that had escaped bruising were horribly sunburnt and puffy

No longer able to feign sleep, Sanji sat up in bed, grimacing as his pajamas stuck to wounds that continued to weep. His room was dark, save for moonlight sneaking in through tall windows on one wall. The bookshelf that held all his favorite stories was illuminated in moonlight, the titles on the spines reflective and glittering, and the items stacked on his desk threw strange shadows across the floor. Looking down at himself, he could see dark patches in his yellow pajamas where he’d bled through. The injuries kept scabbing, and then tearing open as he tossed and turned. The constant and repeated failures had incensed his father, who sent Sanji directly to bed following the conclusion of training - no dinner, no medical attention.

“If you’re able to cry and whine, you’re able to get yourself back to your room.” His father, the king of Germa, had turned away without a glance, his long blonde hair blowing in the wind as he stormed away from his son. As one of the princes - and an expected future commander of Germa 66 - Sanji was expected to meet physical standards that felt impossible to achieve. “I’ve had enough for one day. I would like a break from staring disappointment in the face for a change.”

Small, wet blotches bloomed on his lap, and Sanji furiously wiped the tears from his eyes with scabbed, blistered hands. They were coming quickly, flavoring his mouth with salt, and that in turn triggered more tears to fall. “It’s not my fault,” Sanji whispered to himself, turning to look out the window closest to his bed. He could see stars twinkling in the distance and the moon high above, lighting his room in patches. His clothes from earlier lay in a heap by the door, caked in blood and mud, and he could just barely make out the large black ‘3’ on his shirt. “It’s  _ not my fault.” _

3\. The third son, and the first disappointment. Sanji gingerly leaned back against his headboard, careful for the bruises on his scalp. Compared to Reiju and his brothers, he -

“...Gotta hold up your end of it or it’s gonna spill.”

“It’s not  _ that _ heavy…”

“It isn’t but it’s big so shut up and hold up your end.”

“I am!”

Sanji sat upright, listening carefully as his room remained quiet and still all around him. He could’ve sworn he heard voices, cutting through the silence of the castle, jarring him fully awake. It was late, far too late for the servants to be awake, or soldiers to be wandering around. But sure enough, he could hear whispering, coupled with shuffling and scraping noises, echoing and growing closer. It wasn’t servants or soldiers and it certainly wasn’t his father. Sanji threw his blankets back as he swung his legs out of bed. His joints were stiff and uncooperative, his pajamas abrading roughly on his injuries with every movement, but Sanji managed to shamble over to his bedroom door fast enough.

“Hold on...Yonji, are you even holding up your end?”

“I thought you guys had it so I didn’t have to.”

“ _ Why did you even come if you weren’t going to help, you idiot!” _

“I wanna see Sanji too!”

A smile twitched at the corners of his mouth, despite his pain, and Sanji slowly and carefully pulled open his bedroom door just in time to hear a loud smacking sound in the hall, just barely concealed in the shadow. The sound carried past him, echoing off the walls.

“Why did you hit me???”

“You’ve been letting me and Ichiji carry this box the whole time and you haven’t been helping at all! Moron!”

“Actually...I haven’t been carrying it either...it looked like you had it under control.”

“That just means you’re BOTH idiots!”

“Guys,” Sanji whispered, straining his eyes in the darkness as he looked down both sides of the hallway. He could see the outlines of picture frames on the walls, the shadows of the wainscotting...and a bit further down, he could just barely make out three shadows of a like size to him. Despite his brothers’ lack of concern with their volume, Sanji dreaded the thought of what would happen if his father caught them out of bed - though he knew the punishment would be far harsher for him than them. “Why are you all up?"

There was a sudden pause, a shocked reaction from his brothers, their figures standing rigid in the darkness. He could tell which was which by their hair, in the dark - he could see cowlicks sweeping upright, hair winging out sideways, and hair slicked back into a point. So different from Sanji's own lank, lifeless hair. He'd have known them anywhere. Sanji was sure they’d thought they were being flawlessly stealthy. This had become routine with them, following a day of especially cruel treatment at the hands of their father. Today had been just so uniquely awfully, it hadn’t even crossed Sanji’s mind that his brothers would come to see him.

“Sanji!” There was a rush of air, blowing his hair from his eyes, and then small, strong arms locked around him like a vice. He felt his ribs popping and shifting and pain digging into his bruises and wounds. The pressure was agony on his sunburns as well - but the affection in the gesture felt like a breath of fresh air. As his eyes adjusted to the poorly-lit space in front of his door, Sanji could see his younger brother clinging to him tightly, green head pressed into his shoulder. “We thought for sure you’d be asleep, or trying to sleep.”

“Cut it out, Yonji, you’re hurting him.” Another one of his brothers joined them right outside Sanji’s bedroom. Hands grabbed at the arms that had locked around Sanji, wedging between them and the injured skin to try and peel them away. Short, stubby nails scratched at Sanji by accident in the process, making him grimace. “See, look at his face, let him go.”

“Are you guys  _ really _ going to make me carry this by myself?!” There were more scraping noises, which Sanji could now recognize as something bumping and rubbing into the wall. Straining his eyes, he could just barely make out a large box in the darkness, with tiny legs and arms clumsily supporting it. Bare feet stumbled shakily in his direction, weaving beneath the box. “Not like it’s heavy or anything...but I  _ know _ you all know I can’t see what I’m doing.”

“Yonji.” Sanji felt himself being gently released from the arms that had held him in a tight hug. Next to him, he felt the ever-authoritative Ichiji put a hand on his shoulder. “Go help Niji and get the box into Sanji’s room.”

Face pulling into a pout, Yonji crossed his arms over his chest. His bottom lip jutted out for extra effect. “I  _ always _ have to help Niji.”

“You were supposed to be helping him carry the box the whole time,” Ichiji explained, talking slightly louder to be heard over Niji’s loud complaining and struggling. Their voices carried loudly down the hallway, making Sanji's heart beat slightly faster at the thought that they could be caught. They came nearly every night, when they could, and despite having never been caught yet...it worried him. 

Sanji paused, having caught a whiff of something that didn't make sense. It was the distinct smell of food...but it didn't make sense for him to be smelling any kind of food. Glancing from Yonji to Ichiji, Sanji realized that not only were they in their pajamas as well, but they had some peculiar staining of their own all over. Yonji’s green pajamas had weird grease stains on the ends of his sleeves, and Ichiji had damp-looking blotches on the chest of his red pajamas. “Go help him before it starts leaking.”

“It’s  _ already _ leaking!” Niji complained loudly. 

“Um…” Sanji watched as Yonji ran back off in the direction of Niji’s yelling, beginning to lean against Ichiji for support as his legs ached and his knees wobbled. His brother slipped an arm behind Sanji, trying to support him without aggravating his injuries. “Why are you guys so...dirty-looking? I mean, Yonji being dirty is one thing, but…”

Ichiji gave Sanji a big, wide smile - the kind of smile he never made around their father, their sister, or anyone else. “It’s a surprise.” He turned back towards Sanji’s room slowly, still supporting Sanji and helping him back towards his bed. “You’ll see. But you should get back in bed. Even in the dark I can see how hurt you are. You should’ve just waited for us to come to you, you didn’t need to get up or anything.”

“I’m okay,” Sanji insisted, lying through his teeth as his knees struggled to support him. He fell against the bed, grasping at the heavy comforter, and Ichiji quickly grabbed him again. Sanji could see his brother looked extremely worried as he easily helped Sanji back up against the pillows. “Really. You guys didn’t have to come check on me.”

“We all wanted to.” Ichiji leaned over Sanji, pulling the blankets back over him. Sanji could see Ichiji’s eyes lingering over the mottled skin on his hands, the blood stains on his pajamas, his cracked and split lip, and he couldn’t help but feel self-conscious. His brothers never had days like the one Sanji had, had never been berated by their father for being such disappointments. Ichiji, Niji, and Yonji were the ideal that Sanji couldn’t match. There would never be a day where Sanji would see them brutalized and beaten in such a way - and he never wanted that. “We wanted to check on you. We waited for father and Reiju to fall asleep first.”

Niji and Yonji staggered into the room, carrying a box larger than the both of them. As they passed under one of the windows, Sanji could indeed see that one of the corners was dripping a mysterious substance onto the floor. He couldn’t make out a color, beyond  _ dark _ , but he could see it staining the ornate rug in the center of his room, forming a creeping pattern that bled into the lighter sections of the pattern. As they drew closer, the heavy smell of food intensified. Niji and Yonji dropped the box beside Sanji’s bed, near where Ichiji stood, and the wet  _ smack _ of the cardboard was louder than expected.

Mouth thinned into a line, Ichiji wiped off wetness that had splattered onto his face when they’d dropped the box. “If the box was leaking... _ why wouldn’t you set it down gently?” _

“Sanji!” Yonji leaned into the box, lifting up a large dinner bowl. It had some sort of makeshift cover around it, fogged from the heat of the bowl’s content, but Sanji could see it hadn’t exactly worked. The same dark liquid that had been leaking out of the box had streamed down the sides of the bowl, somewhat trapped by the cover, and was dripping steadily from the bottom. Excitedly, Yonji brought the bowl to Sanji, setting it on his lap. Immediately, Sanji felt his blankets becoming saturated. “We made soup!”

“Yonji,” Ichiji rebuked him. “It’s dripping  _ everywhere. _ You can’t just give it to Sanji like that.”

“You...made soup?” Sanji couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing as Ichiji slowly unwrapped the bowl for him, his nose wrinkled as it dripped all over the blankets. Sure enough, as Ichiji uncovered it, Sanji could detect the unmistakable smell of chicken, and some kind of vegetable. His brothers had often ribbed him for his love of cooking, and made it clear they had no interest in it themselves. “But you guys said -”

Niji climbed up onto the bed, holding a bowl of his own in one hand as he easily scaled the bed frame. His blue pajamas were the filthiest of them all, completely soaked down the front, but he was grinning from ear to ear, his goggles glinting in the moonlight. “We  _ made someone else do it _ , but it was our idea, so it counts. But we did, um...kind of spill a bit when we tried to wrap up the bowls to bring up here.” 

Ichiji leaned into the box, and Sanji could see him pulling out large white containers that the soup had spilled onto. Sighing heavily, Ichiji pulled his sleeve over his hand to wipe away the liquid, and then opened the container to reveal ice packs, rolls of gauze, and other medical implements. “I thought this stuff would be smart to bring too,” Ichiji explained off-handedly as he spotted Sanji, now flanked on the bed by both Niji and Yonji, watching him. “Father mentioned he hadn’t sent anyone from the medical team to check on you. You don’t have an exoskeleton like the rest of us...so it’s dumb to just leave you bleeding and hurt.”

“Father does a lot of dumb stuff,” Yonji observed, pausing from slurping the soup directly from the bowl. Soup sloshed over the rim of the bowl and dribbled down the front of his pajamas, dirtying them further. “It’s not fair that most of it ends up hurting Sanji.”

“You do a lot of dumb stuff too,” Niji reminded him, laughing loudly as he lifted his bowl to his lips. “You’re right though...this time. It’ll be different when Ichiji is king.”

Ichij, setting the gauze and some jars of ointment on Sanji’s bedside table, gave them all a dirty look. “That’s not for a long time. And in the meantime, father isn’t going to stop treating Sanji in such a manner...so we need to find another way to handle it.” He unscrewed one of the jars, and Sanji inhaled a pungent, medicinal smell. “Take your shirt off - when you’re done eating, I mean. I don’t know a lot about this stuff but I can try.”

“You don’t have to,” Sanji mumbled, embarrassed. His brothers had done more than enough, they always did more than enough. They breezed through their training sessions, they could take down an entire force of grown adult soldiers. Depriving themselves of sleep to come see him, every night, on top of that...Sanji hated to feel like he was holding them back.

“I  _ want _ to,” Ichiji insisted, blue eyes wide behind the red hair that was flopping more and more into his face. “I want to. We all wanted to, that’s why we’re here.”

“Yeah!” Yonji agreed, reaching over Sanji to set his now-empty bowl on the bedside table, causing the lamp to wobble slightly. “We’ve been talking about it a lot. Coming to see you at night is fun but it’s not enough.”

“It’s not,” Niji agreed, his blue hair wet and dripping from accidentally getting dunked in his bowl. “Don’t worry Sanji, I promise we’re gonna come up with something.”

The thought made Sanji nervous as he sipped at his own soup, careful to keep from making a mess - well,  _ even more of a mess _ , as Niji and Yonji had spilled quite a bit all over the sheets and blankets. He could taste rich broth, hearty chicken, and could feel sizable pieces of veggies as he drank down the warmth. “I don’t want you guys getting yourselves in trouble,” Sanji pleaded, his face flushing from embarrassment and his sunburn. “Father actually loves you three.”

Ichiji’s face went stormy as he traded places with Yonji, climbing onto the bed as he clutched the ointment jar to his chest. “Father loves  _ power _ ,” he said quietly, reaching to roll up Sanji sleeve and frowning sadly at the sight of how badly injured even one arm was. “I don’t think he actually loves any of us. Or is capable of it.”

“He thinks you guys are the same way.”

“We know,” Niji agreed, his own smile disappearing as he watched Ichiji dabbing fingerfuls of ointment at Sanji’s battered body. Sanji couldn't see his eyes behind the goggles - and hadn't in years - but it wasn't hard to imagine the hurt and anger in Niji's eyes as he got a good look at the injuries. “He talks a lot about how we came out ‘right,’ or whatever that means. If he wants to think that means we’re like...unfeeling robots…”

“Let him!” Yonji interrupted, leaning over the bed, his face serious for once. “If he thinks that, then we’re in a better position to help Sanji.”

Sanji could feel tears beginning to well up in his eyes again, blurring out his brothers and the room around him. He could hear a soft  _ plink _ as his tears fell into his soup, and he tried to turn his head to keep them from seeing. With how horrible things were, with father being how he was and mother being so sick, Sanji felt like his brothers were the only people keeping him grounded. A light in his darkness. The thought that it could have been different, that they could have been people who turned on him like father had, was too scary to even think about. It was something that plagued his nightmares. Sanji never had good luck, ever. How had he been fortunate enough to have brothers that loved him?  


“Hey.” Sanji felt a head on his shoulder, and bright red hair tickled at his nose. Ichiji had leaned in close, setting his head against Sanji, and he grasped Sanji’s hand in his. “You don’t have to cry. Really. We’re all going to do what we can.”

“Father hates me,” Sanji whispered, eyes filling faster and faster with more tears as he squeezed Ichiji’s hand. “He hates me and he thinks you guys hate me too.”

“He would hate all of us, if he knew what we were really like,” Niji leaned in on the other side of Sanji, slipping arms around him. Yonji climbed back up on the bed, right behind Ichiji, and he joined in comforting Sanji. “And if that’s the kind of father he wants to be...then we only have ourselves.”

“And mother,” Yonji chimed in after a moment, his voice nervous and uncertain.

Sanji hesitated. Mother loved him. Mother loved all of them. But he was the only one who could ever get away long enough to go see her. If Ichiji, Niji, or Yonji were to get caught breaking away to go visit her...father would find out the truth. Sanji didn’t know what his father would do if the illusion of having three perfect, emotionless sons were shattered for him.

“ _And_ mother,” Ichiji agreed firmly. “Even if we can’t see her. Right, Sanji?”

“Right.” The tears were slowing, and Sanji could feel his eyes growing heavy as he was wrapped in the comfort of his brothers. He leaned his head further back against his pillows, eyes moving from brother to brother in the dim light. Red, blue, yellow, green. A set that belonged together. They had to protect each other. “Right. Mother...and each other.”


	2. Chapter Two

“Your father will be angry if he finds out you came all this way.”

Sanji pressed his face into the blankets, inhaling their scent as the softness brushed over his soft cheeks. There was the smell of roses, paired with a subdued spice, and beneath those, there was the familiar antiseptic smell. Sanji preferred to focus on the first two scents - those are the ones that reminded him the most of her, without reminding him of how little time she had left. “I missed you,” Sanji stated what should have been obvious as he laid face-down, feeling his mother’s small, frail fingers brushing at the back of his head. “And he’s not even here. He left this morning with part of the fleet...probably a new mission.”

“Your sister told me.” Queen Sora - his mother - was calm and gentle, as she always was, but she seemed sad as Sanji laid across her legs, body still too stiff and sore to move easily. “He took Reiju with him. She came over this morning to say goodbye.”

“She came to say ‘see you later,’” Sanji lifted his head to correct his mother, who was watching him with a serene smile on her tired face. He thought she was the most beautiful person in the whole entire world, even as her sickness sapped her energy and left her bedridden. Her hair was the same light shade of gold as his, and - like the rest of his siblings - he had her blue eyes. Servants liked to joke that the children had inherited the queen’s genetics wholesale, with little contribution from the king. “Reiju doesn’t believe in saying goodbye.”

His mother laughed softly, craning down to kiss Sanji on the forehead. Her skin was warm against his, and he can smell roses more strongly. “Ah, you’re right, she came to tell me she would see me later. I get mixed up sometimes.”

“It’s okay mom, I promise I’ll always help you when you get mixed up.” Sanji rolled onto his back, careful to avoid squashing his mom’s legs. As he did, he felt the muscles in his back twitch painfully, and he grimaced.

Immediately, his mother’s face turned concerned. “Sanji, are you hurt?”

“No,” Sanji lied, feeling his face flush with embarrassment. Even with all the bandages and medicine his brothers smuggled to him every night, he had been slow to heal from his horrible sword training bout. Nearly all of his shirts (in that hideous shade of yellow he didn’t care for anyway) were blood-tinged from his wounds periodically pulling open and weeping as they healed, but Sanji had picked the cleanest one he had before coming to see his mother. “Just practiced with swords a little too hard.”

Sanji could tell she didn’t believe him, but she did not push him any further. She turned to look out the window, watching the sky glowing shades of pink and orange as the sun began to set. Her hand rested against his forehead, her fingers gently twirling his hair. “How are your brothers? I feel like I never see them.”

She wasn’t wrong. It was precisely what their father had intended. Sanji and his siblings were brought by to see their mother once every two months, mostly for the sake of appearances, and as an excuse to update the framed photos on the shelf behind her infirmary bed. Sanji loved his mother, loved his sister and brothers, but he hated those visits - his father never once left the room, carefully monitoring his sons for any show of emotion or weakness. His brothers had to act fully and completely emotionless every time, playing the part of the perfect sons their father believed he had. They never had any real conversations with their mother, and when she hugged them, they couldn’t risk hugging back. Sanji had picked up on a few small gestures, here and there, that he didn’t think his sister or either parent had noticed. A lingering glance at their mother from Ichiji, Niji getting slightly worked up and talking a bit faster (when he did talk), and Yonji clutching at their mother’s blankets when no one was looking. The only good part was that the visits were short.

After every visit to their mother, his brothers would come see him after the castle had fallen silent, but it was never a happy affair. Ichiji would barely speak, Niji would be on the grumpy side, and Yonji would be even more clingy than he normally was. Once, after it seemed as though they were all asleep, Sanji watched Ichiji slip out of bed, tiptoeing to the bathroom and closing the door behind him, without turning the light on. Reluctant but worried, Sanji had followed, walking as slowly as possible across his bedroom floor, pausing right outside the bathroom when he noticed whimpering, snuffling noises.

“Ichiji?” Sanji had poked his head into the bathroom, unable to see a thing in the pitch black. The noises he’d heard disappeared, and Sanji switched on the light. “Are you okay?”

His brother was sitting against the tub, knees drawn up with his head bowed. Sanji could see Ichiji’s shoulders trembling slightly, and his arms were wrapped tightly around his legs. It was a pose Sanji knew well. 

“I can leave if you want to be alone.”

“No…” Ichiji shook his head, not looking at Sanji. Sanji pretended he couldn’t tell that Ichiji had been crying. “It’s okay.”

Sanji had sat with him for what seemed like hours, before Ichiji stood up on his own, brushing off his red pajamas and taking Sanji by the hand back to bed. The next morning, it was as if it had never happened, and Sanji didn’t dare bring it up. With every subsequent visit, Sanji was sure that it was affecting Ichiji exactly the same - he just suspected his brother had learned to hold it in until everyone else was asleep.

“They’re okay,” Sanji answered his mother, only half lying as she continued to look sadly out the window. The sky had turned dusky, and tiny stars had begun to appear off in the distance. “Niji is getting better with a sword and father is very impressed. Yonji can lift more weight than any of the soldiers at our disposal. And father says Ichiji’s leadership skills are unmatched, and he has potential for -”

“No Sanji,” his mother interrupted, turning her attention back to him with a tired smile. Her blue eyes looked distant, and deeply unhappy. “I don’t mean...with their training, or their physical prowess. How  _ are _ your brothers? Are they happy? What sort of things do they like to do when they’re not having to train? Do…” Sora hesitated, and dropped her last sentence off completely as she took Sanji into her arms, sitting back and holding him against her chest. Sanji could hear her heartbeat - fluttering and weak,  _ not _ how a heart was meant to sound - and it worried him. “I want to know how they are  _ outside _ the training your father demands.”

Sanji had answers, plenty of answers. He didn’t think it was safe to share any of them - not even with his mother.

Ichiji liked sneaking out of the castle at night when their father was gone, carrying heavy books with astronomy charts against his chest until they all found an empty field with no lights around, perfect for stargazing. Bouncing so excitedly that his hair constantly wobbled from side to side, Ichiji would throw open the book, illuminating page after page with light conjured from his own palm, pointing up at the sky when he found a constellation he recognized. “Look, that’s Pisces! And that one over there is Ursa Major!” 

For someone who could be so introverted and dignified around adults, Ichiji absolutely did not stop talking when it came to walking around at night, looking at the stars. It was one of the only times Sanji ever thought he was really happy. Many times, they would leave Niji and Yonji sleeping in a heap, and would walk off on their own while Ichiji continued chattering excitedly about the stars, telling Sanji all about celestial hemispheres and astronomical phenomena that he couldn’t pronounce, let alone understand.

Niji had his own little habits, though Sanji and his other brothers agreed that Niji could get out of hand quite easily if you let him. He’d taken Sanji down by the labs, the place they were never allowed to go, and stopped at the floor just above. All the wires and cables for the implements in the lab ran from the floor up a wall, and back into the ceiling. Niji, all his teeth showing in his usual big grin, had pulled a handful of differently-sized metal balls out of his pocket. “Wanna see something  _ real cool, _ Sanji?”

Always slightly mistrustful of Niji, Sanji had shaken his head.

“Aw, well. I’m going to show you anyway.” Niji placed one of the larger metal balls between his palms, rubbing his hands together rapidly. Sanji watched, impressed as sparks of electricity began jumping off of Niji’s hands, glowing bright blue before quickly dissipating. After a few moments, the metal ball itself had an aura of electricity surrounding it, and Sanji could see tiny currents jumping from the ball’s surface to the tips of Niji’s fingers. Grinning wider, Niji stepped closer to the wiring from the lab, holding the ball in his outstretched hand. “Check  _ this _ out.”

The minute the ball touched the cables, there were several loud bangs from the direction of the labs, and the fizzling crackle of failing electricity. The lights in the castle dimmed dramatically for a few moments, before coming back on normally, and Sanji could hear panicked shouting from the floor below. Niji had doubled over laughing, a happy cackle, and Sanji had been forced to drag him away before they got caught.

Thankfully for Sanji, Yonji’s pastimes when he was alone required far less energy than Ichiji’s or Niji’s. Bit by bit over the years, he had acquired a wide collection of comic books, shoved under his bed in mismatched boxes and crates. There were some collectible figures thrown into the mix, their boxes long gone, their paint chipped in various places. Most of the time, when they could manage time alone together, Yonji only ever wanted Sanji to play with him, setting up elaborate fight scenes with the figures, or laying open the comics on his bedroom floor to look at the bright color spreads.

“Do you ever just  _ read _ the comics?” Sanji had asked Yonji once, eating a cupcake from another box Yonji had pulled from under his bed. It tasted suspiciously stale, but it wasn’t completely awful - chocolate was chocolate.

Yonji had shrugged in response, holding a cupcake in each hand. “Sometimes. It’s hard, the words can look all backwards and jumbled. I really like the pictures.” He shoved the rest of a cupcake in his mouth, and Sanji watched as his brother looked down at the explosion depicted in the comic they had opened, and the heroes saving the civilians from the fire. “Can we play pretend with this scene, later? It doesn’t have to be now.”

“They’re good, mom,” Sanji answered, hating that he was lying outright to his mother. He wanted nothing more than to tell her - but the risk of any of that getting back to his father was the sort of thing that gave him sleepless nights. “They’re really good. I don’t get to see them a lot.”

“I see.” Sanji’s mother blinked, and for a moment, there were tears in her eyes. “Well...you would know better than me, I suppose.”

Sanji didn’t know what to say, biting hard on his tongue as he pressed his head against his mother’s chest. She held him tightly, kissing him right at the top of his head.

“I’m so happy I have you, Sanji,” his mother whispered. “I just...wish I could see your brothers like this, sometime. Even if it wouldn’t be...the same.”

_ “But it could be,” _ Sanji wanted to tell her, biting his tongue even harder to keep from blurting it out. There was a metallic taste in his mouth, and he could tell he had drawn blood. It wasn’t fair. If not for their father, then their mother could get what she wanted. It wasn’t fair at all.  _ “It could be. Ichiji could tell you about stars, Niji would show you his tricks, and Yonji would share his comics, if they could...if they could…” _

_ “Father isn’t here,” _ Sanji remembered suddenly, feeling as though a weight had been lifted off his chest out of the blue.  _ “Father isn’t here! We could...sneak them in...or they could come without me...or maybe…” _ There had to be a way, maybe, a way to do it without any risk of their father discovering the truth. Sanji wanted so badly for that to be true. He would talk to Ichiji, and they could come up with something.

“I wish you could see them too,” Sanji comforted his mother, hugging her back tightly as the gears in his brain whirred to life. There  _ had _ to be a way around their father. And Sanji was going to find it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- I tried to stick with constellations from the northern celestial hemisphere for this, though whether or not you'd see both of those constellation in the same night is kind of beyond me.  
> \- Hoping that isn't too dramatic of a turn for Sanji at the end of the chapter - I wanted to give him something to be optimistic about


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- the specific inspiration for the brothers' conversation comes from this webcomic (https://twitter.com/negies32/status/1098934013081702400). i've read up on twin/triplet/etc "languages" in other media but i liked the way their language was portrayed in that comic overall.

“We’ll be safe in here.”

“You can’t be 100% sure of that.”

“We’ll be safe,” Ichiji assured Sanji as they sat in the dark storage room, sitting on stained wooden crates loaded with various supplies. The whole cramped room smelled like wet wood and gunpowder. Sanji could only scarcely see an outline of his brother in the dark, his hair sweeping up and his legs dangling off the edge of a tall stack of munition crates. “Because if a soldier or servant finds us, I’ll drag them out of the castle by their legs and throw them into the sea.”

Sanji laughed nervously, not completely sure Ichiji was joking. It was risky, being alone together like this during the daytime. Too risky and reckless for Ichiji, the most careful and methodical of all Sanji's siblings. Sanji would not have asked him to do this were it not so important.  


“Anyway...what is it? You made it sound really important at breakfast.”

Truth be told, Sanji hadn’t had an opportunity to say a word to Ichiji before their secret meeting in private. Even with father gone, the remaining soldiers and servants could serve as his eyes and ears all the same. Trying to speak directly to any of his brothers was dangerous. Regardless, the quadruplets had their own way of communicating - a method they only dared use when neither their father nor older sister were present.

Breakfast had been served in a small dining room that morning - without their father, there was no need to eat in the throne room - just the four brothers and two soldiers stationed on either side of the door, eyes concealed behind thick eyewear. Despite the tall windows letting in plenty of sunlight and glimpses of the bright sky, the room had felt oppressively suffocating - but then, most of Germa felt that way to Sanji. At least this room didn’t have banners on every surface, devoid of decor save for a few paintings of seascapes. Small rainbows shone in patches on the wall, reflected there from the crystal of the heavy chandelier above. 

When the last of the servants carrying trays of breakfast food had left, Sanji nervously glanced around the room. Several feet away, the soldiers at the doors hadn’t moved, standing stiffly with their arms at their sides as the princes ate. The lenses of their glasses were opaque, and Sanji couldn’t tell where in the room they were looking. His brothers didn’t give any indication that they minded at all, with Niji and Yonji tearing into plates loaded with crepes, fresh fruit, and crème Chantilly. Ichiji, seated directly across from Sanji, was eating slower, one neat forkful at a time, dipping his strawberries in the cream before eagerly shoving the whole thing into his mouth. He was also the only one of the four who’d bothered to tuck a napkin into the collar of his red shirt - not that he ever needed it. 

With one last quick, nervous glance at the soldiers, and feeling that  _ now _ was the time to make his move, Sanji took a long drink from his orange juice, feeling it almost burn all the way down as he swallowed. 

_ “Blub.”  _

_ Ichiji. _

It was a nonsense sound, to anyone else - the sort of sound that could come from trying to talk underwater. Nonsensical _and_ slightly eerie. Coming from Sanji, it was scarcely louder than a whisper as he tried to keep his voice down, shrinking slightly in his chair and resisting the urge to look back over at the soldiers again. He’d done this before - all four of them had done this before, constantly - but if the soldiers, servants, or his father ever figured out what it was…

Immediately, Ichiji stopped mid-chew, looking right at Sanji and raising an eyebrow slowly. Neither Niji nor Yonji, thankfully, had seemed to notice, still loudly devouring their breakfasts and clanging their cutlery. That wasn’t good either - the faster they finished, the sooner more servants would come back for second helpings. Having gotten his brother’s attention, Sanji continued hurriedly.  _ “Blub...blub...blub…” _

_ I need to talk to you _ . Not a single one of them could explain how they were always able to decipher each other’s meaning from such simple sounds, but it came easier to them than anything else. Sanji’s earliest memories were of their special language, even back when they could only convey feelings and emotions:  _ hungry, tired, angry, confused.  _ The few servants who'd heard it when they were small had found it frightening, before the brothers had learned to hide it from everyone but each other. As peculiar as it was, it had always been a source of comfort to them - but particularly Sanji.  


Ichiji gave the slight head tilt, red hair falling away from his face as both eyes squinted in confusion. Sanji noticed him shooting a look of his own towards the guards before responding quietly.  _ “Blub?” _

_ About? _

Before Sanji could answer, someone else chimed in - the same sounds as the ones he and Ichiji had been using, with a different meaning altogether. It was hard to miss the intended mischief in the message:  _ Look at me, I’ve got hair like slime mold _ .

The voice sounded like Yonji’s, but when Sanji looked at his brother, seated beside him, he was frowning, his brow furrowed. “I do  _ not,” _ he protested, mouth pulling into a sharp pout as he sat back hard in his chair, arms folded across his chest. His outburst was loud and angry, drawing the attention of the two guards, who both turned to look at the four children. Sanji tried not to look at them directly as he felt his anxiety balling up tightly in his stomach. That sort of attention was the exact opposite of what he wanted.  


Ichiji was not fooled. Looking unhappy himself, he turned his attention to Niji directly beside him, who looked to be preoccupied with scooping the rest of the cream off his plate with his fingers. In the reflection of his juice glass, Sanji could see him smiling. “Niji, cut it out.”

The best way to get Niji to double down was to tell him to stop. Grinning even wider, teeth bright in the sunlight shining through the windows, he spoke again in their special language, keeping his voice just low enough so the guards - who were still watching curiously - couldn’t hear him, let alone notice he was using Yonji’s voice.  _ “Blub...blub blub...blub…” _

_ Did someone throw up on my head? _

If the guards hadn’t been on alert before, they went on full alert as Yonji launched himself across the table at Niji, knocking over plates and glasses and sending them to the floor, where they shattered and sprayed everywhere. Sanji caught an almost-full glass of orange juice all over himself as Niji and Yonji fell to the floor, shouting and already taking furious swings at each other. The guards were over in an instant, trying to pull them off of each other and catching painful blows to their arms, faces, and chests in their attempts. Ichiji watched, wordlessly, sipping at his own drink with a bored expression on his face. Sanji didn’t blame him - these squabbles happened often enough.

As one of the guards was thrown sideways, smashing painfully against the wall opposite the fighting, Ichiji caught Sanji’s eye and mouthed,  _ “Later.” _

“It’s about mother.”

Even in the dark storage room, Sanji could tell Ichiji was stiffening. The sound of his heels knocking against the crates as he swung his legs stopped, and his breathing quickened from its slow, calm pace. “What about mother?” The strain in his voice from a mixture of anxiety and eagerness was hard to ignore, and Sanji could hear a faint scratching as Ichiji bounced his leg in place, rubbing it up and down against the side of the crate. “Is she okay?”

“I mean...you know, I guess she’s as okay as she can be, but -”

“Is she doing better? Did you go to see her? Did she ask about me?” 

Sanji smiled, even though he knew his brother couldn’t see it. He liked how Ichiji was when they  _ weren’t _ around father, the guards, or the servants. His brother went from being cool and collected to more anxious, restless, wringing his hands and thinking about everything all at once. It wasn’t as though Sanji enjoyed seeing his brother under so much stress - it was just a breath of fresh air to see he was human after all. “She always asks about you. Yonji and Niji too, you know that. I always tell you guys that.”

“I know, I just like hearing it.” The scratching noise sped up as Ichiji bounced his leg faster. “What did she ask? What did you tell her?”

“She wants to see you. She wants to see  _ us. _ You, me, Niji, Yonji.”

The scratching stopped. For a moment, even the breathing stopped. Sanji sat quietly in the darkness, only aware of Ichiji sitting close by from sensing his energy and feeling his body heat. His brother didn’t move or speak, falling completely silent at Sanji’s answer. Waiting patiently, but quite nervous himself, Sanji began to bounce his own leg as he sat in place, listening to the far-off footsteps of the other residents of the castle.  _ “Mother’s ask isn’t an easy one,” _ Sanji thought, reminding himself of what he was already fully aware of.  _ “This is only going to stress Ichiji out even more.” _

“How?” Ichiji finally asked, the slightest undercurrent of panic in his voice. “Father would be livid if he -”

“We would need to do it while he’s gone.” Sanji felt his face going hot. “As for how...I was really hoping you could help me come up with something.”

“One of us at a time,” Ichiji answered his own question, not acknowledging that Sanji had spoken up again. His brain was likely going a million miles an hour, as it often did when he tried to come up with a plan. Sanji and his other brothers had learned long ago to just let Ichiji think, let him talk it all out, and wait for him to come up with something. “Just one of us at a time. We’d need to pick the right time...when father’s gone, yeah...at night though? No, mother would be sleeping, we need to let her sleep...but during the day, everyone is up and hanging around…”

Sanji tried to chime in again. “Morning or evening?”

“Evening or morning would be best...people will be up but not a lot of people and that’s the most important part…” Ichiji, again, did not seem to notice Sanji had spoken up. He jumped down from his seat on the stack of crates, landing a few feet away from Sanji. Closer now, Sanji could make out his furrowed brow, his mouth twitching as he chewed on his bottom lip. “I need to think about this. I’ll try to be quick. I’ll tell you when I have something.”

“OK.” They had been in the storage closet for far too long - it was only a matter of time before someone would notice they were missing, or stumble upon them by accident. And Ichiji’s threats of throwing people overboard would only go so far - though Sanji ruefully wondered if they’d be more effective once they both were older. He stood up as well, following Ichiji and blinking as he threw the door open, letting light flood in. “Do you want me to hang behind you and leave after you’ve been gone for a bit?”

Ichiji paused for a moment, turning to look at Sanji, and then turned back away as he shook his head. Sanji tensed up a bit at the look on his brother’s face - it was the look that always came on the rare occasion when Ichiji was feeling reckless. And their meeting had already been a reckless move to begin with. “Father’s gone and he took the soldiers closest to him. We’re safe...and if anyone sees us and wants to make something of it, well...then I guess someone is getting thrown into the sea after all. Let’s go find Niji and Yonji.”


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- I swear I will get better at updating on a schedule

The morning sun was hidden behind thick clouds that poured rain over all of Germa as Ichiji and Sanji huddled just outside the door to the infirmary. Every step up to this point had been meticulously plotted and planned by the two of them together, from checking the schedules of the active duty guardsmen and the landscapers to slowly feigning illness for days to make their absence from breakfast that morning a forgone conclusion. Ichiji was determined to cut out as many x factors as possible, and Sanji trusted his older brother. 

Their only disagreement had come over who would be snuck in to see their mother first.

“Yonji,” Ichiji had insisted as they huddled together in Sanji’s bathroom, with their brothers asleep in the other room. They sat on the edge of the tub in the dark, afraid of turning the lights on and waking the other two. “Or Niji. I think Yonji would make the most sense. He’s the baby.”

“It should be you,” Sanji countered, trying to sound as insistent as possible while keeping his voice down. He didn’t like the way his voice seemed to echo against the tile. “You came up with our plan for how we’re going to do this. It’s only fair you should go first.”

Ichiji’s mouth had tugged downwards in a frown, eyes narrowing slightly as well. “No. I should only go after Niji and Yonji have gone. It can be my reward for having done a good job.”

Sanji liked that even less. “Why should you seeing mother be a  _ reward? _ It shouldn’t have to be a reward. You shouldn’t have to do something just so you can get to see her.” He wasn’t sure if his words had made any sense, but it had hurt him in the pit of his stomach to think about it. Every chance that Sanji got, he went to go see their mother. It had never even occurred to him that he would ever need to do something to  _ deserve _ to see her. 

Of course, he couldn’t blame Ichiji. That wasn’t his fault. They knew who’s fault it was.

If Ichiji had an objection, he didn’t voice it, but his anxiety was hard to ignore. It had plagued them both through the late hours of the night and now still in the early hours of the morning, hiding behind the prickly rose bushes by the infirmary doors as the mud at their feet grew thicker from the downpour. Just inside the windows, Sanji could see that their mother’s attendant - Eponi, that brick wall of a woman - was asleep at her front desk, face down against her arms. “She’s still asleep,” Sanji whispered to Ichiji, who was peering through the glass as well. “We can crawl past the desk and around the corner, she won’t be able to see us.”

Ichiji shook his head, glancing around nervously through the sheets of rain. They were, of course, alone - they had known they would be, and with the rain it was even more of a guarantee - but Sanji could see the stress in his older brother’s face beneath his hood. “No. It’s way too risky. We need to find another way. Is there a back door?”

“If there is, I’ve never seen it,” Sanji answered, now beginning to feel a little nervous as well. If it had been just him, he would’ve walked past Epon like it was nothing. But of course Ichiji couldn’t do that. Eponi turned a blind eye to many things, but one of the supposedly “emotionless” princes paying a visit to his sick mother, apropos of nothing, would not be something she’d ignore “There has to be another way…”

“I should head back,” Ichiji blurted out, looking around more and more and beginning to nervously bounce in place. He leaned back against the building, crouching beneath a windowsill. “I don’t think this is a good day, we need to try another day maybe -”

“Wait.” An idea struck Sanji, fully realized, and he stood straight up from their hiding space. He took a few steps away from the building, mud sucking at his boots, and leaned against the rose bush to try and see up and into the window they were beneath. He could see shelves against the walls and a single light dangling in the center - a storage room of sorts. “I have an idea. Ichiji - wait here. Wait  _ right here _ and look for my signal.”

Before his brother could ask any questions, Sanji popped out of the bushes, stepping onto the paved steps of the infirmary and reaching for the door handle like he would on any other day. He pulled the door open, stepping out of the rain and into the front foyer of the infirmary, wiping his boots on the large mat as he stood beneath bright white lights. Taking a deep breath - to calm his nerves and stop his shaking - he walked on ahead as he always did, taking care to be as quiet as possible as he tiptoed past the still-sleeping Eponi. 

She let out a grunt and shifted slightly on her desk, but did not raise her head or give any indication that she was awake or had noticed his presence. 

Moving quickly, Sanji slipped around the corner, pressing himself up against the door that he hoped led to the storage room he’d seen from outside. Turning the knob with both hands to hold it steady, he pushed it open, hoping for the hinges to stay quiet. They did, and a wave of relief washed over him when he saw the familiar shelves and lone light, with a window directly opposite the door. He stepped inside, slowly and carefully closed the door behind him, and ran to the window. Pressing his face tightly against the glass, he looked down and could see the very top of Ichiji’s bright red raincoat.

Sanji tapped his finger against the glass, and Ichiji looked up, surprised. He opened the window, struggling to hold it with one hand as he undid the snaps of his raincoat. 

“Are you sneaking me in through the window?” Sanji couldn’t see Ichiji, save for the top of his head, but he could hear him. “You’re going to need to open it more than that.”

“No, I have a different idea.” Switching to hold the window with the other hand, Sanji took off his raincoat and set it on the windowsill, pushing it out into the rain and down to where Ichiji was waiting. “Put my coat on over yours and just walk in. Go right past Eponi’s desk and meet me around the corner. If she sees you, she’ll just think you’re me.”

“I - your coat - but, but, but -” 

“Trust me, I know Eponi,” Sanji whispered, looking nervously over his shoulder at the still-closed door. “She definitely was asleep when I walked by and if she sees you now she’ll think you’re me. I promise. Do it for mom. It’ll be okay.” It didn’t feel right to Sanji, being the one reassuring Ichiji, but it felt necessary. 

Just beneath the windowsill, Ichiji hadn’t moved, standing frozen in place in the pouring rain. Sanji’s arms were beginning to ache from holding the window open, and his own anxiety was creeping higher and higher. “Ichiji, please -”

“I’ll do it.” There was rustling, and then Sanji saw a flash of yellow being pulled over the red hood. “I’ll do it. I’m coming. Wait for me. Please.”

Relieved again, Sanji closed the window, catching it just below it could slam back down into the frame. Sneaking back out of the room, he crept back into the hallway, straining his ears in the deathly silent halls to listen for Ichiji. He wasn’t quite sure how he would hear anything over his own heartbeat and rushed breaths.

After what felt like an eternity, he heard the front door open, followed shortly thereafter by exaggeratedly slow, scared footsteps. If he hadn’t been so nervous, he would’ve groaned - of all the times for Ichiji to not put on his self-assured front, it had to be now. If Eponi woke up, she would be hard-pressed to not notice “Sanji” slow-shuffling past her desk like a zombie.

Thankfully, Sanji didn’t hear her wake up, and after several more agonizingly slow minutes, Ichiji rounded the corner and nearly crashed right into him. Sanji grabbed his brother’s arm and quickly jerked him down the hall, moving as quickly as he could without running - he always hated how loudly things carried in the wide, empty halls of the first floor. “You didn’t need to move so  _ slow _ coming in here,” Sanji whispered.

“I didn’t want to wake her up!”

“You could’ve walked like a normal person and still not woken her up!” Eponi could sleep through a lot of things. Sanji knew that firsthand - once, he had been chased by a dog that had gotten loose from the kennels, and Eponi had slept right through him shrieking and beating it upside the head with his backpack just outside the front doors. After seeing his mother, Sanji had needed stitches. 

Whisper-arguing back and forth, Sanji pulled Ichiji into the stairwell and to the second floor, their bickering halting completely when they stepped into the hall. It smelled like fresh flowers from their mother’s garden, the soft florals stronger than the smell of sanitizer and medicines for a change, and there was quiet, soft singing carrying down the hallway. Sanji knew it was their mother - when she was feeling well, she liked to sing. Sometimes it was his lullabye, and there were about three or four other songs she liked to rotate through. This time, it was one of the ones Sanji wasn’t very familiar with.

Before he could think to speak, he noticed that Ichiji was wandering ahead of him, quickly putting distance between them both. “Hey, wait - hold up, I’m coming -” Sanji hadn’t told him where their mother’s room was, but he supposed Ichiji could have remembered from one of the previous visits - or he was just following the sound of her voice. He seemed to be almost in a trance, barely hearing Sanji at all as he kept going.

Ichiji reached their mother’s door before Sanji, and Sanji was about to follow him right in when he got a strong feeling to wait in the hallway - don’t follow, just wait. As he slowed his jog to a walk, he tried to remember the last time his brother had seen their mother on his own, and realized there wasn’t a single time in recent memory.  _ “Wasn’t that the whole point of this?” _

Inside the room, Sanji heard his mother’s singing break off into an exclamation of happy surprise. “Sanji! You’re here so early! Did you hear me singing?”

Ichiji didn’t answer, but Sanji could hear his breathing become louder all of a sudden.

Their mother didn’t seem to notice, and continued chattering happily. “It’s a little early in the day for lullabies, I know - but those are the songs I’ve sung the most. I never get to sing them anymore, except for you.”

Ichiji still did not answer, but Sanji could hear a familiar snuffling mixed in with his breathing now. 

“Sanji? Sweetie, do you have a cold? Take off your raincoat, it’s soaking wet - and come get in bed, you can snuggle with me and you’ll feel better.”

There were a few nervous, careful footsteps, and Sanji could hear Ichiji unsnapping his raincoat. The snaps were followed by the loudest silence Sanji had ever heard inside the walls of the infirmary, save for what he recognized as his mother breathing.

_ “Ichiji? _ I - I thought you were...my precious baby, is that you?” Sanji could barely understand his mother as she struggled to speak over choking sobs. He could feel his own eyes beginning to sting and prickle, and Sanji sat down just outside the door, smiling despite his tears. “My baby. I’ve wanted to see you for so long. Did you recognize that song, my little strawberry boy? That was  _ your _ lullabye.”

Whatever self-control Ichiji had been holding onto finally broke as Sanji heard his brother burst into tears in their mother’s room. There was a flurry of small steps and the sound of Ichiji throwing himself onto the bed. They were both crying then, and Sanji as well where he sat in the hall.  _ It had worked. _ Their plan had worked - something Sanji would not have been willing to bank on even a week ago. Smiling broader than ever through his own tears, Sanji peeked around the corner and into the room and saw his mother tightly cradling Ichiji on her lap, with his arms twined around her neck. It was the spot that had always seemed to be reserved for him - and Sanji had never felt happier to see it occupied by someone else.

It had  _ worked. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- I have the headcanon that the boys got their favorite foods from Sora's nicknames for them - I mean Ichiji's hair could passably look like the top of a strawberry - hence her calling him such


End file.
